


Plastic Beach: Two Dents and Three Friends

by Sable4456



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Character Study, Coping, Friendship, Gen, Humor, plastic beach, stockholme syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 04:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16906401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sable4456/pseuds/Sable4456
Summary: The story of Plastic Beach(Phase 3) told through the eyes of 2D. Simple and focused on character exploration and drama. Sticking mostly to canon with only a few changes(or filling blanks). No pairings or slash, just the lovely characters and relationship as it is. Some foul language and violence/abuse in later chapters as well as depressing themes so folks be wary. Enjoy!





	1. Kidnapped in Lebanon

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Name's Sable. It's been a really long time since I've written any fanfiction but for a long time I've wanted to give Gorillaz some love in that department, 2D in particular, though I love them all dearly. QwQ Plastic Beach stands as one of my favorite albums as far as premise and concept, having such a great atmosphere and touching drama(if a bit confusing going into Phase 4). I've always imagined what it was like for 2D and Murdoc on being pretty much stranded out on an island for a pretty long time working on the album. 2D being stockholmed and kidnapped and held against his will, Murdoc being the crazy abusive puzzle he is. I developed a sort of headcanon over time and have always wanted to translate it over into a story. So here it is!

There was something wrong with today. It crept into the mind, clinging to the walls of the dark and dingy flat. It tormented the one who haunted it these days. 

2D had felt it ever since he’d woken this morning, like the shadows in the corners of his room were staring at him. Looming eyes as black as his own, invisible in the darkness. To be very fair, he -had- taken an extra half dose of pain meds before bed with his head having been screaming last night.

It was lingering, however. Hours had passed since he got up. He was sitting in his room on his too-small bed still, half-dressed and still rather groggy as he stared at one of his Casio keyboards laying invitingly against the wall in the corner near the door. The silence was pressing… The way the light was coming through the window seemed dimmer than usual. It touched his back without warmth, without comfort. 

All of this was starting to really bother him. He held his thin arms around himself, scratching one of them anxiously. Maybe he should play for a bit, that always made him feel better, kept his thoughts from his head. This was probably another dragging bout of homesickness…

Kong Studios hadn’t always felt like the best home to have…a zombie-infested house of terror that was so quickly relinquished by it’s owner for the price of nothing that someone would have to be daft to actually choose to live in. For Gorillaz, however. It had become band headquarters, home, and much more than that over he years. To 2D, it felt like his only home now. Returning ‘home’ to visit his mum and dad never felt right, despite how they still loved him and welcomed him any time he chose to visit. He always felt this restlessness nowadays… a need to leave, wander, move.

Go home…

But home wasn’t there anymore… Gorillaz was through. Kong Studios was surely still as empty as he’d left it. He knew it would bring to comfort to go there….

\--because his bandmates weren’t there anymore.  
Not Russel  
Not Murdoc  
And definitely not Noodle…

Even through the pill-hangover haze that fogged up his head, he could always see the faces and memories that haunted him. It had all been well-scorched into his memory.  
The El Manana video shoot…  
A blur of panic and terror as all watched the floating windmill island come crashing down into the canyon. What was supposed to be an amazing stunt for the music video ended with Noodle taking helicopter fire…trapped inside. Noodle. Their little sister, heart-shredding, Asian axe princess Noodle.  
And everything fell to pieces from there on.  
Russel shouting, 2D a shaking wreck, and then Murdoc….Stoic, and seemingly fine with it all.

_“Annoying we gotta find a new guitarist—”_ He had said only hours later.  
For ‘his band’. Green and yellow-skinned son of a sodding--

2D doubted he had ever felt so angry as those days that followed the incident. Russel was gone first…just a brief note left behind. An apology to the band’s singer, and some eerily cold words for the bassist.  
2D had still hesitated to go despite his anger, wanting to find a way to put it all back— He knew there had to be a way. But with Russel and Noodle gone, two of the four pieces were already lost. Russel, the caring peacekeeper. And Noodle, loving and down to earth despite everything.  
That left the most dysfunctional of the Gorillaz to carry it on. Murdoc, a certifiable headcase who rarely showed any redeeming emotion, and 2D, fragile and dependent despite his best efforts to amend the situation. Even on the worst days back then, he tried to talk to Muds, tried to understand. Murdoc, formerly his best friend didn’t seem to give a damn. About any of it. After Russel left, he’d cursed the drummer. He’d made all sorts of threats on the grieving singer, told him if he left too, he’d find him and kill him. 2D tried not to take this callousness to heart, but he was weakened by loss, and became wearier each day of trying. And when he couldn’t bring himself to sing or write anymore, Murdoc beat whatever he could out of him to no avail. 2D could cope with the violence in the past, but things had slowly changed…changed him, and he dreaded it.  
Instead of fearing him, putting up with it like he always did before—2D stood up. In a fit of delirium and anger that was only inevitable, he was ready to leave--  
\--when he’d found a note on the counter in the kitchen, an empty bottle of cheap rum smeared and sticky next to it.  
Murdoc had left. On a round-the-world binger, he’d said.

All of that trying…for nothing.  
So 2D had stumbled crying down those steps of Kong Studios for the last time, nothing in his arms, wishing he hadn’t tried. He wished he’d just left as soon as Russel did. He’d wanted to believe Murdoc cared about something other than his vision for ‘his ultimate band’…that 2D deserved all of the beatings he was given. That Murdoc loved the band the same way the other three did. That maybe they could pull together what was left, bring Russ back.  
But as always, 2D was just too stupid to see through his sugar-coated hopes. That’s what he told himself.  
He was fully convinced, of course. People were always calling him dull and childish. One in particular, especially. 

No matter how he tried to put it all from his mind, at least once a day he felt that ache in his chest, a hollow longing that made him lose his appetite. Occasionally he’d stay inside all day…sometimes he’d still cry. He still couldn’t bring himself to sing. He felt empty nowadays…like all his tears were used up for now. He’d wept them all for his family, and not the one waiting at home for him in Britain…

He pulled himself off his bed, not sure how he did it as his lethargic limbs moved him mechanically along, down the hallway. The sun still hurt his eyes despite it feeling so dark in the room so he grabbed a hat-well--what he thought was a hat—off the pile of clothes he only scarcely kept clean. It wasn’t as if it was any less of an eyesore than the apartment it lay in.

Lebanon was nice. Beirut was nice….but the first apartment he found upon arriving here was not so nice. He missed Jamaica, having lived there for almost a year…but just like everywhere else these past years, it soon felt stale and stagnant. Even in picture-perfect weather and great culture someone should thrive in, he soon had to leave. He’d gone a few different places, just searching for something that made him feel less lost. Less like one of the walking dead. He was supposed to love, zombies too, something he’d half-heartedly laughed to himself about at some point.

The blue-haired singer was running out of savings at this rate… A _fruitful_ venture it had all turned out to be.  
He bit back the bitter sarcasm in his own thoughts. Wasn’t helping anything. With the lip of his navy-esque green hat dipped over to shield his eyes from some of the light, he made his way into the tiny living area, stopping to stare out the window as he often did. Not that spacing out wasn’t always a hobby of his, but he liked this particular view. There was something about the foreign architecture and bustle of the sparser streets outside that held his fascination so well. So humble and yet so…  
…charming. Him being at a stand-still didn’t seem so bad when he watched the city like this.

Something burned a bit in the back of his throat, and he realized he needed to drink some water probably.  
Maybe five more minutes of Beirut first.

A bird landed on a mailbox across the street, blurry as the tiny shape was to the man’s damaged eyes, he could still see the unmistakable hops of a crow….or raven, maybe. Sort of weird to see a raven in Beirut. But birds could fly so they could be anywhere right? Just like airplanes—Maybe that was wrong…

His eyelids suddenly fluttered heavily, something that alarmed him with how quickly it had happened.

2D suddenly swayed on his feet, unsure of what could be happening and helpless to stop it as his forehead hit the window in front of him with the full force of his weight, eyes closing in an instant. He felt like someone had filled him with liquid lead. The air smelled a bit funny, didn’t it? What was that hissing sound?

What the bloody hell? Was he going to sleep now?

His body became heavier and heavier as he was dragged down into the black of unconsciousness, not giving him time to figure it out.

All he could think through a thin dose of fear was that he wanted to go home...even if it was just in his empty-headed dreams at this point.


	2. Garbage Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to wake up on an island in the middle of nowhere with a crazy green man!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, chapter 2 finally ^^ Finally getting to the meat of things. Feel free to review, I know there's not much to the story yet but soon enough. Not wanting to rush through this one.

The next breath 2D realized he was taking was shallow, entirely uncomfortable. In fact, his whole body was uncomfortable. Each muscle in his back, neck, limbs, and everywhere else was squeezed into a tight ball, aching in sharpening throbs the more he came to.  
“Feh—ouch!” He muttered, realizing his voice was right in his ears. It was utterly dark, his eyes unable to pierce it to see any surroundings. What felt to be four walls were pressed around him, forcing him into the unnatural pose he was in. 

“Hh—E-Ello?” He tried, remembering someone had been there when he passed out. Where was he? Did some fans finally find him and kidnap him? He remembered some frightening letters he had received after leaving Gorillaz; and frightening was putting it lightly. The crazed fans had somehow found his mum’s address too… He appreciated his fans, but like any, they could go too far. Sometimes he still thought back to before the Gorillaz fully formed. How terrified he had been that his oddly altered appearance would be badly received for the ‘ultimate band’, especially as a front man. Even he had been chilled to the bone seeing those inky black orbs staring back at him in the mirror for the first time. He didn’t look human, he thought. But that was why Murdoc picked him. Well, one of the reasons. 

And many people had come to even admire his eyes once they got used to it.  
Almost too much for some of the fans…

He feared many possibilities as he waited for an answer, unable to really wait as he struggled to breathe. His breathing had quickened, siphoning what little oxygen could enter his tiny prison. He became dizzy, head aching so badly from being pressed up against the leathery wall that a wave of nausea came over him.  
“Someone, please..? I can’ breathe in ‘ere… Anyone?” His voice grew fainter and he squinted at the effect it all had on his head. He dreaded the fact that he knew his pills had been left behind. Damnit.  
“’’Ello…?”

No answer…only a faint sound he couldn’t place. Sort of a ‘whooshing’ that grew and fell. What did it remind him of? It felt so obvious but he couldn’t place it.

Was he going to die in here? No, there had to be a way. He could move a little.  
Ignoring his head as best he could, he wiggled in the confined space, grunting. He managed to get one of his lanky legs up against a wall, pushing. It hurt so badly he knew he couldn’t keep it up for long. He cursed under his breath in pain, trying to pull his leg out of the position and finding himself stuck.  
“F—‘Ello!? Come on, why’d you kidnap me for if you’re gonna jus’ lock me up in---S’ this a suitcase!? ‘Ello!?” He shouted this time, voice losing it’s air immediately. He was forced to breath tiny shallow breaths, dizzier and dizzier as his own exhaling was doing him in. 

He thought of giving up…just going to sleep. Suffocating wasn’t a fun way to go out by any means, but it beat some things, right?  
His eyelids fell closed, not that it mattered. He tried to calm his thoughts, empty out his mostly empty head, so he believed. He could feel the delirium setting in, misplaced song lyrics starting to play over the rushing sound outside. Yeah…maybe this wasn’t so bad. Were those footsteps he was hearing now?  
\--WHUMP  
\--until a sudden impact struck the wall of the suitcase. 2D hadn’t realized that the container was on a hill….not until the black void around him spun and crashed against unseen terrain as it tumbled.  
“AAAahhuuu—Eck’--Ahhh Owwch—AuuhAAAAHHH.” A ramble of screaming and gasping as each bump sent a white flash across his vision, his head screaming along with him. He finally came to a stop, a voice outside catching his attention and making his whimpering go quiet.  
“Aha, see? There he is! I told you, Cyborg, the post always comes at a _ridiculous_ hour out ‘ere. And no knock either. Bloody rude if you ask me…”

_Was that….?_  
_There was absolutely no doubt it was--_

“Oi! Murdoc!? Focking’—Lemme out of ‘ere! Where do you get off—You—you--” 2D’s anger rose quickly, his head protesting and his lungs doing similarly as he demanded freedom. He couldn’t keep it up though, going quiet as he nearly went unconscious with that last string of words. There was no welcome reception from him for his green-skinned friend, and clearly there was no warm welcome for 2D either!

“Shhh, shhh, faceache, calm yer shit. Don’t wanna croak in there now, do you?” The man laughed, sounding his usual combination of malicious and pleasant, all twisted up with that awful voice like he’d gargled some nails and drank a gallon of pickle juice.  
The way the man always seemed to enjoy the blue-haired man’s misery like the highest form of comedy was baffling.

It sent an unpleasant shiver down 2D’s spine. He wanted to protest but found himself nodding off, simply whimpering something he knew was unintelligible. Something angry, he thought.

Boots stomped their way over, spindly fingers fiddling with the latches on the case. 

“I’ll take that silence as peace well-made…--Ell, how’d they even fit you in ‘ere...?” The green-skinned man grumbled thoughtfully under his breath as he struggled with the latches. They were probably stuck with 2D’s body pressing so much from within, straining the little flip-locks. 

“Cyborg, a little assistance luv? Can’t get it open. Completely jammed.”  
Another set of footsteps made 2D tense up. 

Did he say…. _Cyborg?_ Was 2D simply delirious from lack of oxygen?

Another scream that could have been his last squeezed from the singer’s lungs as what he was sure was gunfire sounded right next to his head, completely killing his sense of hearing for a few moments. Nothing but shrill ringing filled his senses. Another shot forced a whimper from him again before the case suddenly gave way to his leg pressing against it, a rush of crisp—very smelly air filling his lungs. He gasped it in desperately, no matter how it offended. The blue-haired man pushed himself up quickly, tearing out onto the ground where he collapsed on sore muscles.

“Oi oi, oi! Hold it, dullard!” Murdoc called at him, growling in frustration. “Where the hell deh you think yer going? Fucking idiot.” Murdoc’s voice was garbled with ringing still but 2D was well-tuned to the voice, cringing at the feeling of crunching…plastic? Paper? It smelled sweet and foul, salty…Salty? The air all around was thick with the unmistakable reek of seawater. Ripe seawater at that. He squinted painfully, the sun so bright he shuddered with the pain it placed in his head.  
“Gonna flop off into the big blue like a brainless fish?” The bassist trudged over to 2D while he tried and failed to get up fully.  
….Blue? His fathomless eyes finally adjusted to the burn of white light…an expanse of deep blue filling his vision as he lifted his head. So that was the whooshing…. That was the sodding ocean…

How did…--  
He stared off dumbly at it, stuttering with furrowed brows as Murdoc made his way over to him. 

“See that, dullard? You’re in my slice of paradise now. Don’t think of running off this time. Nowhere to go anyway. As even **your** empty tin can can figure out, I’m sure..” A heavy boot pressed on 2D’s head, and he shuddered violently at the pain and nausea radiating in his skull.

The singer shirked and gasped in agony as the same boot struck him atop his blue head, drawing the tears that he knew could not stay away forever. God, Murdoc, why did it always have to be the head?  
“Now geddup! Got a new album we’re gonna work on….jus’ you and me. Got a fresh batch of demos that yer gonna sing. Eh? Should be fun, right?”” The threat was low and clear, if a bit tame for Murdoc-- but 2D couldn’t even process what these things meant yet. 

“Welcome to Plastic Beach, mate.” 

Plastic Beach? Was this a new Barbie brand deal? 


	3. Deaf Ears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say, thank you so much for anyone who stops by to read. I know this fic is a little slower than some, I just really want it to take it's time and be immersive without jumping around too much. It's good to jump around too sometimes to build a story and have good pacing, but I want the sort of lost, sincere, and reflective tone I often feel from Plastic Beach(album) to be felt here, which was my inspiration for the story. And I think that requires a bit of a slower pace. Enjoy if you can!  
> -Sable

“W—wot? Plastic Beach…?” 2D blinked slowly, realizing what the warm sun-baked plastic under his hands meant with this new information. He turned his head, scruffy locks of blue hair tugging under Murdoc’s shoe. Off to his left….pink. Stark against all of the blue around them. The entire shore rounded off around the corner…..all well-rotted garbage, seemingly. Pink garbage. He still had to squint to see, the sun so bright on his eyes that were already not so great.   
“Yeah? Wot, did the lack of oxygen finally kill the rest of the sense in yer brain?” Murdoc was growing more and more irritated.

“S’at….pink?”

“Yes, yes, you’re missing the biggest part here, Dents. Turn that empty head around and maybe you’ll see it!” The greener man insisted roughly. The sharp-treaded boot finally lifted in mercy from the singer’s head so he could fully turn, gaping up, open mouth and all at the sight that had been behind him this whole time…

Murdoc scowled impatiently, a captain’s hat and a tank top on. His skin was looking darker green than last 2D had seen him but that was about all the detail the blue-haired man could take in before his focus shifted entirely to the towering structure behind the bass-player….

Oh wow…   
His stomach dropped a little.  
Pink trash made a grand column rising from the sea……half a mile high. Seated on it, stark white architecture in curves and wide stylized windows with palm trees sprouting here and there from a topper of green that served as a nest-like bed for the huge building.  
The whole thing seemed to glow with the bright colors, so unnatural underneath the sun. And yet it was sort of beautiful.

It was all so perfect, smooth and painted up. Odd curvature standing out so much somehow. Artificial in every way. It was a symbol, yes. Already 2D could feel it.

All made of plastic. A paradise of plastic.  
Was this the album?  
Was that the studio?  
Would--  
Would he get to work in this studio?  
On a Gorillaz album?

His heart was actually racing.

“M….Muds—Holy heck, issat---? Issat really?”  
2D was finding himself utterly lost for words. Maybe it was his headache, the lack of oxygen for god knows how long. Maybe it was the alarming nature of this situation.

Or maybe he’d just felt that something again for the first time in years.  
That something that spoke to his musician’s soul like the most powerful of siren’s songs. How did an evil git like Murdoc always come up with such beautiful concepts? How did he even make this?!

Murdoc heckled at his reaction, reaching out to muss his hair in that impossibly harsh way that always left 2D feeling like he’d just gotten some green rubbed off in his blue hair. He was still staring in awe even if he was being laughed at.  
“Truly is. Impressive, eh?”

“Y-yeah, it really is…” 2D murmured earnestly, ever-honest even when it made him look like a fool. It wasn’t long though before he realized he shouldn’t be feeling this way or gawking like he was. He was just kidnapped! This was Murdoc’s insanity all over again.  
Of course the submissive and conflict-hating part of him said that he missed Murdoc and it was okay if he let it all go, but it wasn’t.

2D had left, and meant it. He always meant it. He’d broken his own heart and gone against so many old habits to do it and it hurt to see it all dismissed. It hurt so much to be here again the more he let it sink in. This was unfair. It made him so angry to feel his emotions being played with. He knew it was Murdoc’s intentions. He expected 2D to just go along with it all. Forget the past.  
He was wrong.

“B-But wait, no! Nono no. I’m not staying ‘ere. Yer ridiculous; crazy—I’m not working on any album with you. You fink you can jus’ kidnap me, an’—no! I won’ do it Murdoc. Not this time. An’, an’ you should know why—” 2D blurted in hysterics, still half-dazed but quickly coming to his senses.

Murdoc leered at him, seemingly unaffected other than a snarl coming on his lips that grew subtly as the string of words went on.  
“An’ that’s----that’s all I haff to say.” Already tears were coming to 2D’s eyes, betraying the assertiveness he was trying to express. “He wanted to say more, but was afraid of his waning integrity as the moisture welled up in his shining black eyes.

“Yeah? All sounds real convincin’. But you know what I think, dullard…?”  
2D shirked at that glare as Murdoc leaned in closer, yellowed eyes staring with stony resolve into his own. Resolve that seemed to crush his.  
His voice came in a whisper, voice somehow softer. Less grating. And much more threatening.

 

“I think you don’ have a choice ‘ere…. And eventually you’re going to go along with it just like you always do. Because yer nothing without me, or this band…. I didn’t have to see it. I knew you was out there wasting away, 2D. Lost and whimpering just like a puppy without an owner. Yer airheaded. Clumsy. Funny-lookin’. Childish.” Each insult hit sharply in 2D’s chest. “Couldn’t do a damn thing on yer own. No use to anyone. And you know it too, don’t you dullard…?”   
That last statement hit truer than all of the rest, each wave of doubt and self-ruin reminding the singer that it was all true.

He believed all of those things, even without Murdoc having to say it.  
Tears finally ran down his face again, more tears than he had shed in months. It was all fresh again. He knew what he’d finally forgotten back in Lebanon.

Without Gorillaz, he really was nothing. He had no home that felt like home. No friends. No integrity. No voice. He was spacey, and had a hard time with day to day responsibilities. He forgot so much. He messed everything up. He wasn’t himself.

Way back when he was still working in Uncle Norm’s Organ Emporium, he knew he had no future. No noteworthy aspirations. Talent, but no idea where to put it.  
And now again, without Gorillaz, he had no future.

Murdoc had in a sense… _made him._  
He was Frankenstein’s monster, walking around without his creator. Without a purpose. Even if he hated the fact. It had always been like a ghost following him around. Or maybe he had been the ghost.

“Hhh…--” All he could do was cry, any words he may have had in reply seizing up in his throat.

“It’s okay, though, innit? You ran off, learned yer lesson—”

“N-no, Muds. I don’t fink I can do it….Noodle and Russ. It’s all broken…” 2D’s voice finally came, stammering and weak. This all felt like some kind of backslide and it hurt like hell. His emotions got the better of him, beginning to melt his fragile resolve. “I—I just can’…I don’ understand how you can. You---you—s’like you didn’ care.”

“Sure I cared. Bloody sad. But it happened and it’s done. Can’t cry about it. Too much to be done, still.”  
It was that same heartless tone from back at Kong that just bothered 2D. He’d known Murdoc for so long and it felt off to him.   
“S—see? That. Thas’ jus’…”

“Quit crying, sweet Satan! It was just us blokes before, right? Still a band.” Murdoc crossed his arms lazily.

“You _know_ iss’ not the same, Muds! Why did you bring me ‘ere?” The blue-topped singer’s emotions finally came to a head as he cried tear after tear onto the pink plastic. His toes curled inside of the socks he wore. It all felt so raw even after so long. He felt sick to his stomach, head spinning. Why were they even arguing like this on some beach? This was all over and done with years ago.

“Isn’t it fucking obvious? Cus’ we’re the last of Gorillaz. And we got a job, yeah? Not just fer me dream, either. Everything it stood for. The music, and all that…. Boating around the world had me thinkin’ a lot about it.” Murdoc’s tone was surprisingly low and calm with those words but 2D wasn’t having it.

“Iss’ not Gorillaz without Russ and Noodle, an’ you can’ go and—”

“It’s gonna bloody have to be, faceache…” The green-skinned man’s tone shifted back to irritation. “And yer gonna have to face it.” He lifted his head from looking down at the singer, barking an order suddenly at something behind 2D… Odd how he didn’t seem to really look at whoever it was. Barely an acknowledgement.  
“Cyborg, knock ’im out—I’m getting a headache.”

You’re getting a headache?  
2D spun his head around, as much as it hurt to. When did anyone get behind hi--

The butt of a rifle that 2D had somehow forgot about firing earlier in all the confusion struck him square in the head with enough force that he went immediately down, head flashing in hideous colors before his eyes. It was 2D’s lacking survival instincts that would likely always end him up in these situations.

“…Gonna take you some time thinking bout it, dullard. But you’ll see it my way….”

The ringing pain in 2D’s head did nothing to stop the black fading in around him, Murdoc’s voice ending off in a weird echoing gurgle…

With the gentle crash of the tides behind them, he almost sounded like he was underwater. Or was 2D sinking underwater…?  
He wasn’t ready…


End file.
